


Addiction

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Mötley Crüe
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Mild Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:28:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26506702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: Mick reaches his breaking point, and gives Nikki an ultimatum.
Relationships: Mick Mars/Nikki Sixx
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Addiction

"Hasn't this addiction done enough damage already?" Mick finally yelled, breaking apart in the threshold of the door, his voice seeming to push through the barrier that had been built by practiced, experienced hands. 

Nikki said nothing, merely tilted his head down so that his long hair could obscure his face, and hide whatever emotions were flickering through his eyes. 

It was a dark night, and storm clouds were brewing in the sky, fitting for such a moment. 

Mick felt like he was falling apart, pieces of him, breaking away. This was all too much, but, goddamnit, he hadn't gotten this far by crumbling completely. "Answer me, Nikki." Mick said, grounding out the words to try and get his point across, each word laced with his frustration, fear. 

"What do you want me to say?" Nikki whispered. 

_A million things. Nothing. Everything. Something. Anything._

Unable to stand still, Mick began to pace. "Don't let this turn out like that." He said, and the words seemed to make sense, but they didn't seem to be comprehended. "Don't ruin- _this."_ Mick motioned around the room, and the words were cruel, but maybe a certain amount of cruelty was enough for this moment. 

Nikki rubbed his hand up and down his arm, scarred with track marks that would stay with him no matter what. "I'm sorry." He mumbled eventually. 

Mick nearly laughed. _Nearly._ "You're sorry? Nikki, you're killing yourself- no, you've already killed yourself!" Mick stepped foward, bent down, and grasped Nikki by the arms, purposefully keeping his movements slow and purposeful. "Your heart stopped, Nikki! And yet you keep going! You never fucking stop. You don't care." 

They didn't fight, not a lot. But when they did fight, every little thing came riding up, like boiling water that overflowed the pot. "You don't care about me, Nikki!" Mick said, and then he forced himself to stop and calm down. They wouldn't get anywhere like this, and Nikki was getting that trapped animal look in his bright green eyes again, and _how did they end up like this?_

For a moment, they could only stare at each other, emotional and afraid until Mick let go of Nikki, but didn't move away. The floor was littered with bottles and needles. 

It was something out of a movie, and yet, here they were. 

"I'm going to leave." Mick said, low and calm, his heart aching at the very words. "If you don't stop. I'm stressed enough with everything else. I love you too fucking much to watch you kill yourself. Unless you change, stop whatever this is, talk or take up a hobby or whatever, just not this." 

_Just not injecting yourself with poison._

Nikki wasn't looking at Mick, his eyes glued to the wall. 

Mick swallowed past his emotions, his trepidation, trying to force the next words out. "I cannot handle this, unless you can be yourself under control. This isn't you, Nikki. This isn't the man that I fell in love with." 

Funny, how something so small could turn into something so big. 

Just a few years ago, this was normal. Hell, Mick had done it countless times, but it wasn't okay, what was happening now. They were older, but nobody had said that they were wiser. 

Mick knew that nothing would happen overnight, because Nikki had been doing this since he was a _child_ and it was hard enough already to kick a habit as deadly as drugs, but it had to stop. 

Because Nikki would die, and Mick couldn't have that happen, not to either of them. 

He couldn't feel that pain again, nor could he live everyday without this man by his side. 

Nikki closed his eyes, grasping his arm almost compulsively, as if to remind himself of everything that was happening, to ground himself.

It was all too much. 

"Okay." Nikki said, with remarkable control. He kicked away the needles with his boots, and they clattered against each other, rolling away. "Okay, okay, just don't leave, Mick, _don't leave."_ He looked at the older man, nodding frantically. "Don't leave. I'll stop, I'll do whatever-whatever you want." 

Mick sighed. "I'm not asking for a miracle." He said softly, standing up and then sitting down on the bed to give some relief to his hip. There wasn't much else to say, not much else to do. 

Words weren't enough. Only actions could help. 

But for now, this was what was given. 

Nikki rested his head against Mick's leg. "I'll get help, I swear." He said, and there was a sincerity in this words that spoke about something more, because Mick had never done that ultimatum, only implied it. "Please, just stay. You're a part of me, Mick." Nikki said.

Mick knew already, because he felt the same. Because he felt such incredible pain whenever Nikki shot up. Because, when Nikki died, he died a little, too. 

"Baby steps, Nik. Baby steps." Mick said, his hand moving down so he could stroke Nikki's hair. "I believe that you can do it." 

"Do you?" Nikki whispered, tentative, like he was hoping to believe.

"Yes." Mick confirmed. "One step at a time, Nik. And I'll be there for you for every one." 


End file.
